


love happens

by onefortheluna



Category: Naruto
Genre: A little like an anthology, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And she's a confident bad bitch, Awkward Sexual Situations, Basically an equivalent of ANBU in reality, Domestic Fluff, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, From Sex to Love, Lovers, Lust to love, Marriage Proposal, Meeting the Parents, One Night Stands, Pregnancy, Romance, Sakura is a doctor, SasuSaku - Freeform, Sasuke is a ... police? Or soldier., Shit went from sun and shine to rain and hail, Smut, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, mature - Freeform, slight jealousy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onefortheluna/pseuds/onefortheluna
Summary: Sakura is only human and so she is bound to make decision(s) that will alter her life too drastically for her liking in result, for better or worse.That Friday night, she had gone to a pub.It starts there.Several months later...The more she stared at the slim stick, the clearer it became.The more she went over it in her head, the more it made sense.She is a doctor. And she is a woman.So she knows. For certain.She is pregnant.And she knows exactly who the father is.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke
Comments: 81
Kudos: 330





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello.
> 
> Yes, I am a sasusaku enthusiast too.
> 
> That being said, here is a piece that I've been working on ( It was originally an original work story that i salvaged from ruins but I've altered it to fit Sakura and Sasuke).
> 
> This is more experimental more than anything, but I hope you all like it and drop by the comments to let me know.
> 
> This is sweet romance, but with like some plot and setting which is quite important to picture the world I've lowkey built.
> 
> It's been years since I actually sat down and watched Naruto but I've been watching some clips, reading some stories and I saw something funny on Twitter recently regarding 'tasteless sasusaku' too 😂 so I just had to write them. I remember rooting for Sakura even if i thought Sasuke was an ass 🤡
> 
> Now enjoy.

The first time _it_ happens, it's a mistake.

It's Friday night and she's had much to drink. Still, she's not drunk. Just a _little_ tipsy.

It's just her; Ino had taken her advice and had moved her dry humping session with Sai to 'a room'- wherever that is.

Either way, she can coordinate and articulate splendidly, and when she walks up to the good looking lone dark headed stranger nursing a drink at the counter, she isn't intoxicated.

Nope. Not even as she flirts with him.

He's handsome, very much so. Sharp jaw and tall nose, well built in that black shirt with broad shoulders and a tall fit frame. But what makes him even more attractive is that head of wild silk for hair a lustrous shade of onyx and those sharp hypnotic dark eyes that seem to carry the galaxy.

Really seeing him, she thinks she _might_ have taken a shot she can't win.

But then she starts a conversation anyway, and he barely responds but he leans in and listens and nods and hums as she speaks and she thinks that may be a smirk against the rim of his glass. Soon enough they're comfy enough to trade drinks and sit a little more closer.

The rest is a blur to her, just that, in that deep voice of his, he offers to take her home when they meet again outside and she smiles a sly smile and agrees.

But it doesn't end with a polite send off. No.

She invites him in, and the sexual tension is thick in her small home and it gets the best of them.

It begins right there, against her front door.

He's a good kisser, like she thought. And he's even more fit without the shirt, like she thought.

Best of all? If the hot bulge pressing against her is anything to go by, he's just a big and thick as she thought.

Suddenly she's become a slut.

She's pulling at his pants and boxers and grasping his erect member, and she enjoys how the shape of his lips feels across her hot skin. And she loves, _loves_ the way he stretches her and fills her up, the feeling of him moving deep inside her.

He takes her against a wall, on her couch and finally they're in her bed, void of any shred of clothing or shame, limbs tangling with the sheets in their frenzy.

She's a mess of moans, fingers gripping, toes curling, heart slamming, breath hitching. She sees stars and she thinks she can taste paradise on her tongue.

He's become alot more talkative, and she can only absently hum into his chest and shake her head 'no' when he asks if he's hurting her and frantically nod her head 'yes' when he asks her if she's telling him she wants more.

Her blood boils and her vision is hazy but she clings onto what's left of her sanity and keeps her eyes open and watches as he moves above her. She feels every bed creaking thrust to the core wracking up her nerves and her bones rattle with pleasure after every intense hit of the orgasm that comes in violent waves.

She's lost count, how many times it's happened. How many time he's taken her. How many times he's released inside her.

But she can't part from him for any longer than one minute and even him kissing every inch of her slump body and caressing her skin as he prepares himself for the next round drives her insane.

She wants to go until the sun goes up and maybe even after, but she hasn't the stamina.

The scent of sex is heavy in the air and presperation gleams over their skin.

Their legs are tangled under the sheets and they stare at the ceiling. Only the sound of their breathes fill the room.

Her body may be tired but she never tires of conversing.

She pulls the sheets up her chest and turns. His eyes glow even in this angle and his nose is tall and flawless. Even his profile is pretty in the dark.

She asks him his name. ' _Sasuke'_ , he says, voice deep as the deepest ocean beds, dark as the darkest of chocolates and silky and velvety. She bites her lip. It's sexy. His name is nice too.

She taste it in on her tongue and she swears he smiles when she does. But she doesn't get her hopes too up. It could've been a cruel trick of light.

She says her name, and he doesn't repeat it, and though it bugs her as they keep getting to know each other and the sun comes up signalling their inevitable departure into the real world, he does call her as they're getting off the bed.

Her ears perk, and her spine snaps straight. She tries not to resemble or sound like a lovesick puppy as she turns to look at him over her shoulder where he's sat at the opposite edge of the bed, bare back turnt to her. She also tries not to oogle at his defined back muscles for too long.

_'Yes Sasuke,'_ she calls. It's silent for a while before he speaks. It seems he had been struggling to get it out. It amuses her.

_'She is- was a virgin.'_

_'Ah, yes.'_ She nods and waits for him to proceed. He obviously wants to. But he just stares at the shirt in his lap and makes no attempt to put it on and leave.

She walks up to him and helps him put it on, smiling and cupping his jaw she tells him honestly, ' _it was no big deal.'_

He stares at her, and she's so focused on how pretty his dark eyes look in the morning light where flecks of silver dance and twirl in a pool of obsidian. So she notices when his gaze jumps to her lips.

Her lungs contract. Her grasp on his jaw tightens. Her heartbeat roars in her ears. She waits and anticipates, and in her head she's already planning to bring him to her to plant one on him if he keeps wasting time.

But then he's moving, and her heart drops as his hands come over hers, dwarfing them, before he peels them off his face. She swallows the lump in her throat and is already expecting being denied.

And then she feels soft lips press onto the corner of her mouth gently before she can succumb into the depressing stages of rejection and she's left stunned, arms falling tirelessly to her sides as he releases her hands, blinking as she stares at the spot he used to be.

She brushes a finger over the tingling skin and her lips stretch into a soft smile unconsciously.

She hears the door open behind and she turns to find him walking out.

He stops though, hand on the knob, and he inclines his head forward, offers her a slight turn of his lips she thinks is a smile.

She smiles back, wide and delighted, and then he lingers for abit, but eventually he walks out. The door comes to a close in a soft click in the wake of his departure.

She sinks into the dining table chair and fans her face.

That was intense. Her night. And that interaction.

And barely any words were even exchanged.

The two couldn't be more different but they just _worked_. It was sad she would probably never see him again, and even if she did there won't be any sexing.

Ino huffs an inelegant laugh and tosses her the morning after pill as she says this.

In her head, as she gulps down the little thing and stares at the ceiling, she huffs a laugh too.

Who was she kidding?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! Second chapter so soon?
> 
> Yes. It turns it out this was well received and the response the first chapter got drove me to edit the next and upload it because you guys like it and I like when you guys like it.
> 
> Smut ahead again. I can't help it. They're attractive adults who are soulmates so yes they can't keep their hands off each other 😅
> 
> Kudos and comment for the next chapter soon :')

The next time it happens is at a formal party.

He's there as a military agent and she's there as a medical practitioner.

Immediately, they find each other in the crowd.

Crystal emerald clashes with deep onyx.

She's dressed to nines in a fitting red dress, and her hair is up in curls and she thinks she looks pretty but he looks _divine_ in nothing but a good old suit.

At first, she isn't sure what to do or say, but their eyes have locked and looking away is so very difficult.

Her cheeks burn under the intensity of his gaze and when she looks at him she thinks about that night. _And_ the soft kiss the next morning. And her heart just starts dancing a very stupid giddy dance to a tune she thinks is called 'warm fuzzies', if she had to name it.

But then a shrill voice sounds in the distance and she watches with held breathe as a pretty redhead in black throws herself at him and clings onto his arm. Something thick and heavy forms in her throat.

Pursing her lips, she breaks the eye contact. She doesn't care that she can feel eyes burning into the back of her head.

Downing a drink doesn't help diminish the storm in her but it helps in making her thoughts stray away from dark eyes, wild black hair and lovely soft lips.

The event becomes unbearable from then on, but she sees her old mentor, Hatake Kakashi and he comes to whisk her away from the group of pompous men who have more interest in her person than her work to introduce her to a close family friend and she's more than grateful.

That is until she finds herself standing before a familiar man, with striking black hair and deep dark eyes and an even deeper voice.

An oblivious and jolly Kakashi introduces them amidst the tense air and she only stays and endures until the pleasantries are done before she excuses herself.

She's walking down the rich halls when he stops her. He calls her name and it does something to her, so without even turning, she _knows_ it's him.

She can just ignore him and walk away.

... _Or_ she could stop being unreasonable and face him.

So what if he had a girl clinging onto his arm? He is a very attractive man. She would cling to his arm too... _if_ she didn't know he'd had a one night stand with another woman some nights ago. Not just that, he had planted a darn sweet kiss on her cheek her the next morning. _Who_ does that? _What_ does that even _mean_?

Clearing her throat and gripping her purse, she turns and tries not to shatter in her resolve. Because he looks _so fine_ just standing there in his suit over that immaculate build, his hair looking well kept with that unbelievable face of his.

' _Yes_ ',she enquires. She knows he doesn't talk much, it's one of his charms. Another one of them is the way he strides over to her with those strong long legs, holding her gaze all the way instead of speaking out his business with her right away until he's right infront of her.

She has to crane her neck to look up at him, and she tries not to focus on how he smells of cologne and mint and moonlight and instead crosses her arm and raises her eyebrow at him.

His eyes flit downwards and she forgets that her cleavage is enhanced, but his gesture reminds her. But she doesn't adjust her stance, even as her cheeks heats up furiously. 

She knows she's being bitter but she can't help it, she tells him he _better hurry up, that it's not nice to keep his girlfriend waiting._

A frown mars the centre of his brows. _He doesn't have a girlfriend._

She blinks. _Oh. Well._ She diverts the topic. _What did he need again?_

His mouth opens and closes. He seems to be struggling with what to say. The gesture is so adorable and she wants to cup his face and kiss him but she can't.

It's not healthy. How she's feeling. He's practically a stranger. Even if she knows his name and knows how many beauty marks he has all over his body. Even if she's well acquainted with the taste of him and knows her hand fits perfectly in his.

They've only shared a bed once, _well_ they didn't have sex just once, but _still._ It wasn't enough grounds for them to be... anything. Infact, that one night stand should be all the reasons for them not to interact. Right?

' _Look,_ 'she begins with a defeated sigh, but he cuts her off. He wants to show her. 

She actually blinks, and then despite her previous train of thoughts she nods and allows him to grasp her hand and lead her to God knows where and the only thing flowing through her mind is just how perfectly their hands fit.

.

.

He takes her to the grand balcony at the rooftop and before she can even ask him, beyond confused, as to just _why_ , he opens the doors and her breathe is taken away. 

Cherry blossoms. Pink and pale. Small and soft. They flutter on their branches and dance in the wind. One comes to swirl before her and it comes to fall into her open palm. She could cry in happiness. It's so beautiful.

When she turns, he's not where he had been. He's come to stand behind her. She looks up to finds him staring at the trees ahead. She should ask him why still, but instead she closes her palm and brings it to her chest and her cheeks burn because she _knows_ why.

She had told him of her fascination for these blooms. They are common, but they are the colour of her hair and she's named after those pretty little petals and seeing them just makes her feel giddy and so special. It was silly, and fleeting, and it had been a murmur in the cover of sheets at mellow dawn. But..

_He remembered,_ she breathes. He hums, and even in the distance, the motion and his heat reverberates against her back like a warm safe coat on a chilly night.

It's all so overwhelming. Seeing him again, seeing these lovely flowers, the way he looks at her. And what she really needs is to take several steps back and get a breather.

But instead she jumps off her tiptoes, grasps his shoulder and she presses her lips to his. For a moment nothing happens. And she deflates. She convinces herself when he pulls away that her heels begin to hurt more than her heart aches. 

But then, he kisses her this time, and he grasps her waist, pulling her into him and her feet are barely touching the ground anymore. Her arms circle his neck and she smiles unconsciously against his mouth.

There, right under the cherry blossoms.

It's like a scene right out a romance movie. 

Her heart swells and she feels like she's flying. The petals rain down on them, catching in her falling curls, soft and velvety against her skin. But she's drowning in the taste of him, the warmth of his body and the scent in the air that is fresh, clean and warm, sweet and just everything lovely.

Her hands glide down his shoulders to his chest, and she's the one that gives him the gentle shove that breaks the kiss.

He looks down at her, still holding her, and he's panting, breath fanning her face. And it's that look in his eyes that convinces her to part and take his hand and then lead him to her hotel room. Only, she's being pulled back as he tugs on her hand and shakes his head. And her mood depletes. Because she thinks he doesn't want it, want _her_. But then he's changing their direction and their destination becomes _his_ room.

It's clean and neat, almost untouched, but she can not analyse his temporary sleeping quarters anymore, for he pins against the door and kisses her silly.

It's different this time, the way their lips glide, the way their hands slide over skin. The way he peels her dress off her body slowly, how he unclasps her bra and lets it glide off her shoulders. And the way she undoes the buttons his dress shirt one by one and how she slowly slides his belt out of the loops.

The affair is leisured compared to the last venture, and somewhat more gentle and feeling. The sheets are soft against her back, and petals lay strewn all over the bed, in her hair, on her skin and she feels as pretty in her heart as she looks in his eyes. 

He kisses her mouth and situates himself between her legs and she kisses him back as their hearts slam against each other. He moves forward and this time, as she holds him and her eyes flutter shut when he enters her, she sees a swirling shower of pale pink petals behind her lids.

She gasps and she moans and she loves how he's taking it slow, how he's grinding into her unrushed instead of pounding her into the bed with ferocity like last time, how his hand glides over her ribs and come to caress her breasts as he whispers into her neck and kisses her again and again and again, everywhere and anywhere.

She says his name like it's all she knows, and maybe because it is all she knows. And everytime he husks her name into her hair her heart does this thing and it triggers a sudden wave of orgasm to grace her and she always splays her fingers across his jaw and brings him in for a kiss while she experiences it because it feels _so much_ better like this.

But she wants more, she wants to drive him to bliss like he has driven her there.

She presses a hand against his shoulder and mumbles something incoherent to her own ears, but he nods, and it seems he understands. He holds her and flips them over slowly, and then she's left looking down at him from her perch on his lap, palms pressed into his abdomen. One hand grasps the swell of her hips and the other glides to the small of her back, and his fingers twitch, but he does nothing but hold her gaze until she starts moving.

She bites her lips and her hips stutter with every slow roll, because the sensation this brings her is overwhelming. The angle, the feeling. She never ever wants to stop.

He's groaning in pleasure, lust evident in his heavy lidded eyes as he watches how she moves above him, and then she feels his hand on her hips slide down to the juncture of her legs, leaving goosebumps in it's voyage- and her lips part in a silent scream as her head falls back because he's rubbing at her clit, right above where they are joined and she shakes her head because it's too much, too much when he's touching her there like that, rubbing circles, pressing down on the little button, capturing it in his fingers and tugging and _oh_ \- 

Her entire body trembles and shakes with vigour as it washes over her with an overwhelming intensity.

She collapses into his chest and her muffled cries vibrate through the walls of the hotel room for what seems like forever.

He cradles the nape of her neck as she descends her high, fingers massaging the twitching muscle there while one large palm soothes against her slick back. She's not sure if the heartbeat roaring in her ears is his or hers. The answer escapes her in her state. Maybe it's both.

Her hips jerk, chasing the delicious orgasm and she can barely see the wall in her line of vision or think straight but she hoists herself up and he's watching her closely as she sluggishly moves up the length of his body, until they're face to face. She kisses him, her eyes fluttering close and she mutters something over his lips before she goes slump in his arms and her head drops to the crook of his neck.

As he adjusts her to comfort above him, tucking her neatly beneath his chin, he stares at the pale ceiling and he thinks about what she had said.

It hadn't fallen on deaf ears but he hadn't truly understood it either.

But he hums, neither a yes or no, because it hadn't been a question but more of a statement or a confession, and he closes his eyes, burrying his nose into her hair, filling his nose with the scent of eternal spring and warmth.

And for the first time, long nights don't seem so horrid when in dreams.

Not when there is life and sunlight, when there are cherry petals floating and the gentle wind.

When she stands in the centre of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It makes me happy to know that people are comfortable reading thus story in this format I've written it, keeping the conversation to the minimum but still building up to something from a partly 3d person point of view.
> 
> Anyways, this is going to get interesting. The drafts I have stretch over a period of time and many things happen in each chapter but my point became introducing something and resolving it by the end of the chapter. So they get longer as we go I think. Richer. Thicker, as they say.
> 
> Stick around for the ride loves!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe people actually like this ;_, thank you! I'm lowkey going on a spree updating thus because the response is just motivating me so so much.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter was fun to write. There's a little bit of world building, our favourite trio are together, AND sasusaku soft fluff, domestic fluff, and whipped fluff. Really, they're just soulmates.

They keep contact. They kind of have to, now that they're lowkey working together. Only every once in a while.

Law Enforcement and National Security met Medicine sometimes. 

But it isn't unpleasant, seeing each other and breathing the same air and just standing close to one another. Considering the nature of how they first met especially.

At least it isn't for _them_.

Naruto slams a hand onto the table and they part an inch in their seats.

He sends them a warning look across his desk and sits back on his chair. He begins to relay the schedule for the work at hand.

Ah, the reason why she is here. She crosses her arms as she nods absently and purses her lips. Right. 

It's a simple rescue mission. The soldiers will infiltrate an enemy base and release the hostages and the medics will be on standby at base camp to attend to the injured.

It was ranked B, at it's highest. Delicate, but nothing too dangerous if at all.

She knows Naruto and he grinds her nerves sometimes so she mutes out any other irrelevant trash he has to spout since he's closed the report but still hasn't stopped talking.

Her mind inevitably drifts away from the ensuing bicker banter in the background and the office windows at the station.

She thinks about _that_ night. Not the first time, not that it hadn't been pleasurable because she'd be a damned liar if she said it wasn't sex worth breaking your back for.

Though the second time, in his hotel room, it had been... _heavenly_. Not just the sex. And the sex was _great_. That it definitely was. But it was more than just about the sex.

She had felt so precious in the moment, like she was one with the wind, like a petal dancing in the breeze. Elated, and... at ease? Those were the words that came to mind. And then the morning after, it had been an _experience_.

She remembers waking up, slowly and sore, plastered to his chest. And she had been disoriented for a while, but blinking into reality and feeling the body pressed against hers had solidified her suspicions. No, she had not been dreaming it, she really had slept with an ethereal and very attractive specimen of a dark haired Sex God after witnessing a cherry blossom shower on the rooftop in the cusp of autumn and summer. 

The proof was in the tiny pale pink petals littering the sheets. He even had petals in his hair. And she had smiled like a fool, taking her time in picking them out of his locks and then arranging them around his head like a halo.

She'd been so embarrassed when she had sat up to marvel at her work with delight, only for his eyes to fly open. When she'd gingerly asked him if he'd been awake the whole time he'd chuckled, actually chuckled, a deep throaty sound that left her breathless and that had been that. 

He'd left her at the bed stunned and spent and then he had come back with breakfast.

He didn't eat, just looked over every now and then to make sure she was eating and not gawking at him as he cleaned up the room. She can't count how many times she'd been caught. But eventually he'd sat down and she could focus on her food.

That morning had been strangely ... _domestic_.

They'd freshened up and had taken a bath together and her playful splashing had ensued an actual water battle. He'd won of course, trapping her flush against him, her back to his chest, her arms held in a bind against her front and she'd laughed with all her heart.

She'd never laughed so much in her life. It was a wholesome thing, and it left her heart swelling and growing with something warm and fuzzy and tingly. In the wake of the tub pretty much emptied with their moving around, who would have ever thought he was so competitive.

In the end she was nothing but a cackling, joyful mess in his lap, and his own chuckle reverberated against her back and even sounded at her ears like a favourite song, a lovely sound she etched to the front of her mind and the walls of her heart. 

After their laughter dwindled down, they had exited the tub, trying not to slip on the very wet tiles and then they had put on their robes.

She doesn't even know why she had bothered looking for something to wear. She hadn't been in her room. Her dress was still fine and she was no diva, but wearing the same dress again... It was too _fancy_ for a walk of shame. And then it hit her. It wasn't a walk of shame. And she wasted more time squealing into her hands and flailing her arms as she thought of the events in the past twelve hours.

Her fangirling had been cut short when she looked up to find him standing at the door with those ever smouldering eyes and the most attractive nest of bed hair, looking marvellous in just a crisp dress shirt rolled up impressive forearms and black slacks that seemed to make him appear taller, leaning against the frame. 

Wether or not he had witnessed her in the act she knows not, his expression was back to being hard to read for how stoic it was. But embarrassment still ate at her cheeks.

He walks in and hands her a change of clothes, and she only hums absently when he tells her her friend, Ino, had given it to him when he'd knocked at her room door, after interrogating him, he subtly implies. She's horrified and she almost drops the load. But he doesn't look offended as he gives her space to change.

She's hyperventilating on the inside, tugging on the spaghetti thin straps and the dancing flowy hem of her summer dress, cursing Ino for her choice, quickly adjusting her hair to conceal love bites that refuse be kept away from prying eyes, thinking about how they're supposed to face the world after... _everything_. But then it isn't that hard. He walks out and down the halls like he owns the place and she follows suit. They join the rest of the party for lunch and things go smoothly.

She sees the girl again, but the fellow female doctor, Karin, doesn't bother her. She walks up to them while she's whining about something and she offers a hand and a smiles, introducing herself.

Karin stares at it for a moment, looks up at Sasuke who looks at her passively before his gaze shifts to her, almost like he's encouraging her to take it silently, and then she extends hers to.

And from then on, Karin had forgotten about the man named Uchiha Sasuke. Karin clings onto her through the whole remaining stay and it's only when she's bid her farewell with a promise to meet again soon that she gets to be alone with Sasuke again. 

She's standing at the front of the hotel, waving a taxi, when he calls her name. She's actually surprised, but a pleasant smile stretches on her lips.

The silence this time, as he gathers his wits, is only 6 seconds. 38 seconds shorter than the first time, 14 seconds shorter the the second. 

_He'll be seeing her around,_ he says with a curt nod. And it translates into something more hopeful and promising in her ears despite it's slight shy rigidness, but that could be her imagination. She nods and tells him, ' _Sure_.' She succeeds in keeping her anticipation masked beneath a soft smile. 

He nods back again, but he doesn't leave. He stands there, soft wind playing with his hair over his eyes, hands in his pocket. It's hard to believe he's real sometimes. She turns and grabs the door to the car, only for her to turn back.

 _Ah_ , she bites her lip _, she forgot something._ He blinks, looking over his shoulder to see if she'd left anything on the table. But there's nothing there. When he turns back, he finds himself in a liplock. 

He is actually surprised. But she is more so. Her eyes widen to saucers and she pushes herself off him, hand resting on his chest while her other hand jumps to her mouth. Her face is a deep mulberrry.

 _She meant to kiss him on the cheek_ , is her muffled, squeak of a retort. He can't help it. The corner of his lips tilt upwards.

She blinks and her heart jumps but before she can address it, he's taken her hand away from her face, and he's leaned down to kiss her. On the mouth. Just a lingering peck. But when he pulls away and steps back it leaves her breathless and dizzy all the same.

She waves dumbly and tries not to fumble as she walks into the car. He closes the door and she watches him turn into a tiny speck in the distance before she slumps against her seat and sighs as she places a soft hand over her rapidly beating heart.

The elder taxi driver is smilling a kind smile, saying something about how her man is good looking and how they make an attractive couple. She couldn't agree more. It's only when she's in the confine if her home, staring at her phone wondering just how dumb she is for not taking his number, that she realizes that she had agreed to it.

She wants to die from embarrassment, but her priorities shift when she gets a message notification from an unknown number with a picture attached to it.

**_'She said you said she could have it because it reminds her of you. But I would like it if you kept it.'_ **

It's a mirror picture. He's too tall so his face isn't in the frame, but it is him and he's holding her dress up and Karin is clinging to his torso, trying to climb him like a coconut tree and take it and she wants to die because that's actually so adorable. She really is like a rowdy sister to him. Her heart does _that_ thing.

Clearing her throat, she types in.

**_'She can have it. It's okay. Let's go shopping next time, maybe. And I'll get any dress you like.'_ **

It's simple, nothing to provocative or too hyper. It's... _well_.

And he responds with a simple ' ** _Fine_**.' that for some reason makes her want to squeal. 

And they've communicated aplenty since then. Late night phone calls, spontaneous messages, hell, even the occasional casual video calls on the weekends.

They've even been out eating sometimes, -she likes to think he remembers more things about her than he lets on, like the fact that she enjoys food- with Karin and some of his other rowdy friends. And on more than one occasion, they've gone shopping. Just the two of them.

The dress she sports under her medical coat, a simple knee length navy blue, had been bought on one such endeavour. She wonders if he remembers it.

" _Oi_."

They both snap to attention and whirl to face a glowering Naruto. He doesn't like being ignored.

She smiles innocently.

' _Are you finished?'_

Naruto's eyes widen as he looks between the two and flounders. Then he sits back on his seat and appraises them critically from behind his desk. They blink. And it takes them a 5 seconds to realise they had said that at the same time.

 _Ah_.

Blue eyes narrow in suspicion.

_Is there something he should know?_

Her brain refuses to function. 

Sasuke glances at the clock lazily. _He's 10 minutes late._

Naruto is up and running in record time, gathering papers and muttering curses as he rushes out the room. He leaves a gust of wind in his wake and the door slowly comes to a close with a distinct click.

And then there was two.

She turns and he turns. Their eyes meet.

This time, she struggles with what to say. He shrugs and huffs a low laugh.

And they're exact opposites but they work so well. And now they've become one another. She can't even say that's strange because it made sense.

He gets up and tells her they should get going. She frowns even as she lifts herself off her seat, grabs her bag and follows him out the office and down the halls.

She asks them where they are headed, trying to play down her excitement. She loves going places with him.

He regards her from the corner of his eyes before he looks forward, and she swears he's smirking. Not just any smirk, a sly, handsome smirk.

He tells her, reminds her of their meeting. The one he'd been referring to in the office. She can't even duck her head low in embarrassment. She has to cover her mouth and hold back the laughter threatening to bubble up her throat. 

_But Naruto... had rushed... to a meeting._

_Well_ , Sasuke shrugs, _he never mentioned him._ _He was talking about them_. _Their date, not some boring meeting. He has priorities_.

And that does it. Her does _that_ thing and her laughter rings in the hallways, her cheeks blossoming, and beneath it, his does too because watching her smile makes him smile too, so watching her laugh makes him laugh too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, Naruto is in a way, Sasuke's superior of sorts, though their importance is equal. But like in Naruto when he became Hokage, Sasuke is the one who is out at field more with missions and whatnot. I think it was a fun concept to write in a more 'free' , 'modern setting'.
> 
> The next part is kind of like a part 2 to this, during the mission. Lets see how that goes. I hope you like this! Say hi in the comments and leave a kudos 💜


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Yes, I'm on a streak.
> 
> I'm uploading this so soon because i don't know if can find the time to edit and upload this soon after today. 
> 
> Anyways, here there's a little action. Some BMFA Sakura and some lowkey OP Sasuke. Also there is brief, but emotionally passionate smut. As per the usual. This is actually quite a serious turn. This is where things start getting well... you know.
> 
> Warning: wicked ocs ahead and referenced sexual assault.
> 
> That being said, read on and let me know what you think! Leave a kudos and comment if you enjoyed it and would like to see more! Next time 💜

She hadn't been anticipating a walk into a war zone when she signed up for this, but she didn't expect it to be this quite either. It was almost peaceful.

The camp is situated quite far from the operation base, so maybe that was one reason. But the way her colleagues at the hospital had refused the offer, and how the ones that did come with her trembled on the plane and woke up looking like they spent the whole night worrying made it seem like they could be ambushed at any moment.

But maybe, she had an advantage. She'd been with Sasuke the day before the departure, the last she saw him before duty called and they went their separate ways.

It had been some time around three in the morning and at that time questions floated through ones head. She had a habit of thinking aloud, and her thoughts had been spoken into his chest. He'd told her that it was nothing difficult. That no harm would come to any of the soldiers, let alone the medics. That it would be over in at least 24 hours.

But it has been three days and she's starting to think, maybe they are right to panic. Maybe this is the calm before the storm. 

And a storm came indeed.

The voices of men sounded from outside and instantly she was alert. Torn between reaching for the first aid box and the gun he'd entrusted her. ( _soldiers were depraved, and any thing in a nurse's uniform could be a victim._ )

But the men that storm into the tent wear colours she is familiar with and she sighs in relief as she runs to tend to the minor injuries while her colleagues work on aiding the rescuees.

It's when she realizes there are no more soldiers in black gear to treat that it hits her. He isn't there. She asks them where he is, and they only shake their heads and tell her they don't know.

_She can't believe they left him out there just because he's apparently some superhuman soldier- he's still a person! Their Squad Leader!_

The men avoid her gaze and mutter, saying he'll be back. _He always comes back._ They even sound proud and condescending as they say; ' _He can't die.'_

Her eyes sting and the bridge of her nose itches. She wants to rip the hair out of her scalp and scream and break someone's nose.

Because she's a doctor, and you don't even need to be one to know that he can infact fucking die.

Her feet carry her before she knows it, and the protests and hands that try to pull her back barely register as she throws the tent flaps opens and marches out into the open.

She doesn't know what she plans to do or where she is going. All she knows is that she must find him.

The land is barren and brown, with only few stacked boulders and dry high grass for miles in sight.

In the silence, as dust and sand swirl in the wind, it doesn't strike her, just how still her surroundings are.

But the hills have eyes and they watch as a beautiful rare gem of a lady stomps down the dead plane, looking for something, completely unaware of lurking danger. Like lions in tall grass, they watch their prey and approach with stealth. Their brothers have fallen to those demons who wear her colours, but they shall gain something today. They will take immense pleasure in ravaging her senseless and sending her half dead, naked body to their camp by nightfall. They snicker, that is if they ever get tired of her.

She stops suddenly. Feeling a chill course through her spine. She can barely pick up the rustle, but the high grass move and she takes steps back and watches warily because she knows something is coming.

A lion, wolves, a pack of hyenas, she would be able to manoeuvre through with smarts and wit.

But a group of at least 20 dangerously dressed men who reek of malice- her chances are slim. Already she's begun running. Her pace falters when she hears shots being fired. _Shit_.

The men chase at an inhuman speed. Even if their enhanced abilities had failed against theirs, outrunning a girl would be childs play. Moreso, already she's running into their trap.

She's too busy running, looking over her shoulders, to realize that there are men who have blended in with the desert in her way. She knocks into what she thinks is a boulder and falls on her ass. But as she hastily picks herself up, her eyes land on stumpy feet up to a thick pair of legs and a bulky torso and then a wicked sneer.

Before she can make a run for it they seize her by her hair and cover her mouth, and she trashes against them as they drag her into the tall grass and throw her to the ground.

They circle her like wolves and she glares defiantly at every one of them.

She bites the hand that tries to grip at her chin to assess her face and simultaneously swiftly kicks him in the crotch hard with her remaining shoe and the man roars and falls to his knees before he tries to strike her.

But her words stop him and his comrades short. She glares.

_He's going to kill them._

A beat of silence ensues.

Their leader, a man with a leer etched to his face and height, stares at her unimpressed before he bursts into laughter.

Her hands slip into the weapon at her back as his men follow, distracted and smug.

The man leans in and decides to entertain her antics. _Who?_ he asks. Her eyes are hard and her voice is certain but it can be nothing more than a front.

She recalls something, the whispers in the tents. _Of a man. Of a Cursed God. Of a Powerful Demon._

Of Sasuke.

_'The man they call both God and Demon_ ,' she says. And silence ensues. This time they don't laugh. Infact theu shift on their feet.

The man sneers as he eyes her from head to toe, ' _What is she, his whore?'_

She smirks. ' _No. She's his woman._ _And before they taste his wrath, they will taste hers.'_

They blink and glance warily at each other, and before they can say anything more, she's taken the gun in her hand and she aims and she fires. They roar and reach for their own weapons at her assault but it's too late, she's already running.

Their leader snarls. He orders his men to chase after her. But there's no response. He growls the order out again. Nothing. He turns, furious, and then the colour of rage leaves his skin. His men, the 30 left of them are nothing but bullet filled corpses on the ground. What-what had happened? Had the wench... Done this? Impossible. No! He sees red and he whips around to look at her as she dissapears into the horizon. 

No. He lifts his gun and aims. Not on his watch. Not after she murdered his men. Not after their leader and his men came between him and his goal by freeing those civilians. Not after her demon of a partner massacred his army singlehandedly without a blink of an eye. He didn't even draw his weapon and he had the mask on the whole time. It was cowardice. It was ... humiliating. He refuses. He will take the harlot away from him, like he robbed his men from his clutches. And then he will go the camp, dragging her body with him and he will murder everyone on sight. Oh, he will. He'll keep the scum for the last, and he'll ruin his woman infront of his eyes before he kills her and then tortures him. 

He applies pressure on the trigger and focuses on her tiny silhouette. He'll keep her half alive. He wants to ravage her even more after her stunt, after finding out she's that runts little slut. She will be the key in executing his revenge. Just one shot....

And it rings in the desert. Cuts through the quiet.

She freezes, heart in her throat and when she turns, she see the only man remaining falling to his feet in a pool of his own blood.

She runs as fast as she can and finds shelter in a dark cave. In it, she hyperventalates.

It was supposed to be a 24 hour mission. It was supposed to be safe. It was supposed to be minor.

She almost died twice. And she'd almost been raped. There was still someone with a weapon out there. And God knows how many bullets she had left. Had she really used them all on those men? But she didn't even have that many!

The more she thought of it the crazier she became. 

She's so deep in her thoughts she isn't aware when a presence makes it's way into her hiding. But when a hand grasps her shoulder, she reaches for her gun and fires. It hits the ceiling. The shot had been diverted by the hand at her wrist. 

Dusts fall from the hit and as it settles she sees the mystery person's face.

He's wearing his gear mask but she would recognise those eyes anywhere, even if they looked different in the sombre light under dark tendrils of stray hair that allude what she's really seeing in them, and she could pick out a single strand of that black, black hair in a barn full of hay.

She's so done and tired she can't even cry or read into anything. But when she thinks about how she almost died. How she had almost been assaulted. How she had thought that he had-

She tugs his mask off and pulls him in for a kiss.

He's stunned for a while but then his arms come around her and he tilts his head to shove his tongue inside her and she melts in his arms.

Hands grasp at any and every patch of skin, to make sure this is real and that they are there in each others hands, and it leads to an affair that is desperate and needy in the confines of a dimly lit cave.

Clothes are torn and shed with haste, there's no time for foreplay, and muttering nonsense, her breathe hitches when he thrusts into her. Tears burn in the corner of her eyes but she takes the sting and she clings onto him.

There's sand in her hair and pebbles dig into her propped elbows. His palm bleeds where he's pressed it into soil as he fucks her while he holds her to his chest. But none of them care.

It's not just fucking like the last time. It's not love making like the previous.

They don't know what it is. Just that even long after they've reached the high that seemed so far and found their release, the can't let go of each other. Not yet.

So they stay like that. Foreheads pressed. Breath kissing. Heaving chests touching. Their bodies still joint as one. 

And all this, it only helps solidify the fact that everything is okay.

_She's alive and safe._

_He's alive and safe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy a variety of smut.
> 
> Anyways. Thoughts? I kept the whole battle theme vague because that's not the kind of piece this is, the focus is on romance more than action or violence, but I supplied just enough without it being overbearing or not enough. Just enough to build and set the mood for our lovers and their story.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! New chapter.
> 
> It's short and sweet but I had quite some fun writting this and it's second half. Alot of fun.
> 
> I've brought in a character into the story, I hope you'll like their addition.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy some smut (as always) and a surprise hoho.
> 
> Comment and Kudos if you're excited for what's next!

She wakes up to the feather like sensation of petals gently falling as soft kisses all over her face. It's a tender gesture, and it elicits a spread of soft warmth through her waking limbs and it's lovely enough to make her heart swell.

When she opens her eyes, he's hovering over her. His hair obscures his eyes, and she's barely fluttered her eyes open fully and adjusted to the morning light before suddenly he dips and kisses her. Hard.

It's not a bad a way to wake up.

They haven't shared a bed in months, but the night they returned from the mission they had headed to his place and had fallen asleep in his bed, hence the current situation.

One large hand trails up the length of her leg, leaving goosebumps in it's wake, and he hooks her limb around his waist and as he slips the crotch of her underwear to the side and slides inside her, she wonders distantly, if they would ever be able to share a bed without succumbing to sex, great as it is.

And it is nice really, the sharp thrusts, the heat of his heavy length mapping her insides, the weight of him over her, his lips on her neck, his hot breath in her ears, the sounds of his deep grunts and guttural growls- it all made her feel _something_.

It was lust and it was pleasure and it was something intense enough to rob her off sense, sanity and inhibition, something that blasted her into the heavans and made her feel like a goddess who could take over the world.

And she comes and comes, it was hard not to, when he was kissing her neck and pressing at her clit, when their flush chests glide over each other and when he pays homage to her entire being.

But something is amiss. 

She calls his name. If he heard her, he doesn't make show that he did. He keeps fucking her. Steady and sharp. His face is burried into her breasts, forehead pressed against her collarbone. For some reason he's avoiding her gaze. Her hands cradle his jaw and she brings away from her chest. A gasp dies in her throat.

His expression is severe, but his _eyes_... They're dark red and black and it makes her blood run cold.

' _Sasuke_ ,' ; she says his name soft and low, careful as if testing the waters and he freezes. He blinks, irises flashing, pupils dilating and expanding into just black, and the scarlet veil that had been glazing over his eyes dissapears like it was nothing but a figment of her dissarayed imagination, something her messy thoughts had caused her to see.

But she had seen what she saw and he knows she had.

_God. Demon._

She can see it before it actually happens, him closing off before he lifts himself up and off her, so her hands clutch his face and she grasps his jaw and she pulls him down for a kiss.

He's stiff and unmoving at first, but she rolls her hips and he melts into her, and he reciprocates by lifting her leg higher, the back of her thighs pressed to his chest as he kisses her with much more ferocity while he drills into her.

In this new angle, she's left breathless with every single thrust and there's an intense strong pull in the centre of her belly, right at her belly button as he fucks her like this and it isn't too long until once again, because a blinding white light beams over her closed lids, soon they will reach their imminent release and finally-

The door flies open.

Both of their heads snap left. From the space in between his arm in the shelter of his embrace from the intruder, she spots a pretty dark haired woman who resembles him very much.

' _Oh my_ ,' the lady exclaims into her palm with a flush on her cheeks as she assesses the situation with a poorly supressed stretch of her lips and slowly closes the door.

The moment it clicks shut he is off her and is sat at the edge of the bed, clutching his head and muttering gibberish. 

She sits up and looks between the door and him, fidgeting with the edge of the sheets she pulls up to her chin just in case the lady returns. She swallows.

_Who was that?_

He sighs into his palm and shakes his head in mild frustration. The tips of his ears would have been something she considered comically scarlet had she not been also traumatized.

_His mother._

**Oh**. 

She, too, descends into a spiral of humiliation and despair as she throws the sheets over her head and sinks into her palm.

Nevermind his eyes changing colours. His mother just walked in on them having sex.

First thing in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to include Sasuke's family in this. I don't know why, but I always go for mothers.
> 
> Anyways, i think it was the best route. I considered writting Itachi, but I couldn't seem to place him in this setting considering prompt I've given myself. So here, he is dead. Sorry. And Fugaku is highly unlikely to appear because in this piece, Sasuke is completely independent and he has grown out of his younger habits, like the need to gain his father's approval for example.
> 
> Anyways, these are just minor things that don't need too much pondering over. I'll see if I can put in any clarification into the next chapter if anyone gets confused.
> 
> Anyways, till next time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Merry Christmas!
> 
> Anyways, here is a new chapter.
> 
> Fluff, fluff, fluff. What more can I say? I love me some sweet stuff. Also, a little on Sasuke's uh life? Anyways this is quite where another shift in their relationship is starkly, but naturally visible.
> 
> It's emotional and it's domestic. Enjoy chapter six!
> 
> Kudos and comment if you liked this and would like to see more soon!

When they finally exit the room, she's etched onto his back like a sore spot. Trailing close behind him like a tail.

She is both thoroughly humiliated and utterly embarrassed as she should be and she really doesn't think she could face the world after being walked in on. By his _mother_. Her nerves gnaw at her insides brutally.

When the pretty lady addresses her as they enter the living room so sweetly, she is torn between jerking into attention and cowering into Sasuke's chest.

But the woman is nice and she's smilling a kind smile so when she calls her name softly and offers her hand, she smiles back and she takes it.

Uchiha Mikoto is a beautiful woman whose appearance deludes her age.

She has many nice things to say, she says she's so pretty and she loves her hair, but she is honest and her smile is too. The matriarch is elegant and poised but she also seems to enjoy the good things in life like love and laughter. And she also loves a good talk, much like Sakura does and time flies when you're having an enjoyable, effortless chat over brunch.

She sees parts of Sasuke in her. It's in the way there's a slight ruffle and wave to her lustrous black hair. How her eyes are sharp and almost feline like even if they are a steel grey. How they share the same face shape and how similar the way they smile is even if her lips are just a tad bit fuller and rounder.

But then Uchiha Mikoto leans forward and whispers as Sasuke shuffles in the background; she says he resembles his father more, in many ways- and she smiles a sweet and wry smile as she describes him; a tall man with a tall nose, cool dark eyes and a quiet sort of strength but a powerful presence and the strong need to protect and uphold the Uchiha values. She tells her how Sasuke spent most his childhood under his father. Her fists tremble in her lap. Training. Quite alot, once he became Uchiha's sole heir, after his brother's untimely passing to cancer.

She wishes he could've had a chance to experience childhood. He had to grow up to fast, she tells her, and she's glad that she chose to stay with him even if he might be hard to understand. He has a hard time expressing his feelings, but he has a big heart. He's lovely and he's kind. Sakura believes her. Because she knows.

She is his mother and she raised him too and he has taken after her, just as he has his taken after his father. She raised him well. Mikoto looks like she could cry but she settles for a tight hug. And Sakura smiles into her shoulder, and her smile stretches when she locks eyes with Sasuke who peers at them with a quiet sort of fondness in his eyes from the door frame.

After that, he disappeares for some time, to get grocery, he had muttered some time ago once he'd put on a sweatshirt before heading out.

She's so engaged in pleasant chatter that she doesn't realise when he's back, working on dinner in the kitchen, that is until Mikoto excuses herself to use the bathroom and it's when she's left sitting there alone, immersed in his scent but not being able to see or hold him, that she realizes, she misses him dearly.

She joins him sneakily and he reluctantly accepts her request to help. He works better as a one man team and likes to have her sitting pretty and waiting even when he's scrambling eggs or making ramen. But she's discovered he's weak for the coy and cute smile she whips out every now and then. And if she's being honest, she thinks if she used it well enough, he could give her the world if she asked.

He assigns her to chopping plenty tomatoes and fetching water from the sink for him so he can fill the pot for the broth and she watches him while he cooks from the counter when her duties are completed, swinging her legs happily.

He's fluid in his motions, like he's been doing it for years, like it's another art he's mastered. He doesn't even taste the food. That takes some _mad_ confidence.

As he works the flames and flips the pan, and as the aroma of the best smelling dishes ever wind into her nostrils, she wonders with a full heart;

_Is there anything her man can't do?_

They get side tracked, when he comes to stand between her legs in attempt to get plates from the cupboard over her head. It's just, they're so close and he's looking at her like that and she's smilling up at him- so what are they supposed to do if it's not kiss? 

The plates are forgotten and hands no longer seek delicate china but grasp at and caress supple skin. The expanse of his palm scours through plump thighs, soft abdomen, protruding ribs. And finally. Flushed cheeks, fingers gently curling around her face as their lips roll slowly, delicately. His fingers slide into her hair and he tilts her head up and kisses her deeply. Her hands come around his torso and she smiles against his lips.

It's a lovely moment, but it ends abruptly when someone clears their throat at the door.

She jumps and shifts with a flush, but she's still plastered to his chest for some time because he takes his sweet time in parting from her, giving her a small, lingering peck before he joins his mother at the stove. Again, her lips tingle.

She ends up setting the plates Mikoto hands her and they say their graces while Sasuke waits before they dig in. And her whole world has never been the same. 

The spread is humble, according to Sasuke, which is an extreme understatement. She knows not where to start and where to end. What to devour and what to leave out.

The colours are vibrant and the mingling aromas are mouth watering and each plate calls to her enticingly so in the end she can't help but have a taste of each dish, only to find that the next is just as scrumptious as the previous.

The dishes are rich in taste, evenly spiced to perfection. Flavours burst on her tongue and she almost burns her self in her haste to chase the taste, and she's trying so hard to hold back the moans after each savoury bite. 

She does remember her manners though, and she doesn't eat too much despite her glutinous tendecies. Sasuke is being cheeky, adding onto her plate wordlessly with an amused look, a gesture that his mother fawns over as romantic and sweet but she does have to send him a glare to get him to stop. She's not about to appear to be a pig infront of his mother. Maybe later, but not infront of his mother. Not that he heeds to her pleads. She knows she's not imagining the quirk in the corner of his lip as he fills her plate like it's his duty and purpose.

The rest of the food is kept in the fridge and she mentally prepares to wake before he does so she can devour the splendid dishes the next morning in pleasure and in spite as revenge.

They do the dishes, he washes and she dries, and then they join Mikoto in the living room. She's pulled out an elaborate photo book from her purse and links their arms, pulling her in as she shows her pictures of a young Sasuke up to his recent years.

And it's then, when they're sat at the coffee table flipping through nostalgic photos while Sasuke watches them silently from the couch behind, that she truly realises the weight of the athmosphere of the situation they're in.

She looks over her shoulder and at movement, his eyes flick to her. His stance is calm, reclined over his lap with his chin in his palm casually. It's the most at ease she's ever seen him. And he smiles. Actually, smiles, a relaxed, light stretch of his lips she isn't even sure he is aware of.

So she looks away, flustered, and her heart dances in her chest as she tries to get in to her conversation with Mikoto and it's hard at first but Mikoto is an interesting lady who has a knack for good, elaborate story telling.

She doesn't bring it up the whole night.

Not when they bid his mother goodbye at the front door with wholesome hugs. Not when the door clicks to a close and he walks back in while she gingerly follows. Not when he takes out some of the leftover and heats it up for her to have at 12 something AM. Not when it's time for bed, when she's in nothing but her camisole and shorts again, and when he's in nothing but his pyjama pants again, and it's dark and they're embraced, skin to skin. Again.

Not when, once again, they're in a bed, his bed, where they only ever have sex.

His arm is loose over her waist, hand tucked under her top where his palm presses into the small of her back. And she's tucked neatly under his chin, breathing in the scent of him and counting his heartbeat against her cheek.

But they _don't_ have sex.

And it's lovely still, and she thinks she likes this alot.

There had been routine in the events of the day, a natural flow to the way of things that had just been perfect- meant to be. All the things they did today. The experience had been timeless and free.

Waking up together, sitting together, cooking together, eating together, doing the dishes together, munching on left over together at ass o'clock, sleeping together- cuddling, yeah this is cuddling.

She likes it. So _much_.

Maybe even a little more than just having sex.

She likes this, the glimpse of this new thing she could have with him. This life they could share, living together. In one house.

In her head, in her heart, this imaginary, non-existent place where they spend their days like they did today is already called home. 

Who was she kidding? She loves _this_ more than anything in the world.

She loves it the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was fun to write. Really. Anyways, next chapter is uh, pretty whew. Just one clue. Holy matrimony. Huhuhu. 
> 
> Comment and kudos are so important to me, so do leave some if you can. It gives me the drive to overcome writers block or plain old depression abshsjs


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo this one is... not quite angst not quite fluff. I don't know what to categorize it as. BUT, the focus is on how much they need each other and just how much they've embed into each others lives.
> 
> Anyways, this continues onto the next chapter, so please look forward to that.
> 
> If you enjoyed it and would like more soon, please leave a comment and a kudos!

It's Spring and suddenly everyone is getting married.

She's invited to quite alot of weddings too, though she only attends few; she is quite busy but she has close friends that she must be there for.

She attends about twenty and she catches about a dozen bouquets.

She's flustered everytime, and she twirls the blooms in her hand, unsure of what to do as people cheer, even as the ceremony proceeds.

All things point towards it being some kind of omen, is what she is told by almost everyone. But she doesn't want to think too much about it. 

Sure, marriage is lovely and all but it could wait. There is no need to rush it.

She's been telling herself this for years.

It is a beautiful thing, binding as one and pledging to love only one another forever. But in this world, many have called her oh so naive to have idealised such a fragile concept built on the shaky foundation nature of unity and promise.

But still, everyone is getting married. Except for her. Not that Spring. Most probably not the next either. Quite unlikely.

Because the universe had a strange way of hurling the most unexpected things in her way. Who else can she blame for the humiliating shrine of the bouquets she's caught under her bed? 

So, anyways, forget marriage and weddings and bachelorette parties.

There are more pressing matters at hand.

Like the status of her relationship with Sasuke.

It's been roughly six months.

And they've had sex, kissed in public, met the parent(s), seen each other's embarrassing childhood pictures, stayed in each other's homes for an extended period of time and they have held hands in public. In that order. 

That being said, she thinks they are _something_ , that they both faithfully have just each other to do the things that lovers do. Intimate and public. Domestic and experimental. Special and everyday. Because they are comfortable, because they have chosen one another. It's just not been labelled. This amazing thing they share. This powerful bond that they have. 

And if she's being completely honest, she's not sure how she feels about it.

For the most part, she doesn't find herself in a bind when she's approached by seeking men or when she's asked on her relationship status. _She's seeing someone,_ is what she says. And it's true. But it feels like something more. They aren't just seeing each other.

The term is an immensely inaccurate understatement that downplays the dynamic and essence of their relationship, but some guy helplessly flirting high off gas at the hospital didn't need to know that.

They are building something that is already so solid at a comfortable pace, suitable to both of them, and it is relaxed and gracefully languid and it felt like it would on forever and forever with not an end goal in sight because there isn't a destination, a limit, a road block; it would just be one endless journey of being together through thick and thin and caring for each other through it all, always finding each other at the end of the day.

She convinces herself that she's happy with what they have. This special nameless, but very much important _something_. What he's giving her and she thinks he's happy too.

But then one day, Naruto stops by the hospital and he tosses her a sleek lavender envelope with a smug grin and a salute. She sets it aside with a flick of her wrist and a click of her tongue because she's busy and she has no time for his antics but then when she's done with her shift at near three AM and she's packing up- it catches her attention.

She grabs it with a resigned sigh and sinks into her chair.

It's a wedding invitation. Naruto is getting married. To Hyuuga Hinata. 

She stares at it for a long time, until the sickeningly glimmering and gold, cursive letters seem to dance on paper and mock her.

That night, she goes home. To her flat. 

She switches off her phone and stares at the ceiling and tries to think.

But it's hard. Because she smells him in her sheets and when she reaches into the drawer to get her lavender sleeping mist, his things are there and all she sees and hears when she forces her eyes shut is wedding bells over a pretty aisle and little giggling dark haired kids that have her eyes and his smile and-

There's a knock on the door. Several raps actually. She rips the sheets off and drags her feet through the halls leading to the entrance and without a thought she opens it.

Only to find a very distressed and sodden Sasuke staring down at her with wide eyes. The dull pitter patter of rainfall outside her window only materialises into her ears now. She didn't realise it was raining.

She blinks, taken aback by just how slow and detached she had been and she is about to ask him what he's doing here, because somehow it's ... strange? And- and doesn't he have keys... yes he does, he does have keys- 

But then she's engulfed into an embrace. She's actually full on stunned, staring into his chest as he pulls her so close, like she'll run away if he lets loose or disappear if he lets go for one second. She can't see the relief in his sagging shoulders, the desperation in his gesture, the flashing of his eyes as an intense maelstrom of emotions whirl in them, black and red and so expressive.

But she knows he needs her, and eventually her hands come around him and she closes her eyes and breathes him in. Because she needs him too. He smells lightly of sweat and rain and earth. She pulls away and looks up at him, trailing her hands up his chest and neck, splaying her fingers on his jaw and cupping his face. His pale skin trembles under her fingers and a sad frown mars the top of her nose. Her heart cracks.

_'What's wrong?'_ She asks. He breathes in deeply and he shudders under her touch but he tells her, clutching her waist. He's been looking for her. Everywhere. She wasn't at the hospital. She wasn't at home either.

_Home_.

The sentiment strikes her like a taut rubber band released onto her skin the first time. Sharp and quick. Then it strikes her like a soft pat to the cheek the second. Gentle but not without purpose or effect.

They spend most of their time at his place, and to be honest she's practically moved in with him. She even has a work space there, in his study. It's their favourite hang out spot after the kitchen. His entire bathroom smells like her strawberry shampoo. It's cheap but the scent lasts for days and they both use it. She has her favourite medic coat in his closet alongside his things. His closet has become a funny pallete of monocrhome and bright colour. 

She'd already considered it home. It just came to be so. She didn't know he did too. But he does. And _yeah_ it is _his_ place, but the sentiment put forth is that it's _home_. _**Their home.**_

She wasn't home, and that wasn't right, so he went searching for her, came looking for her, in the rain.

The feelings this realisation stirs in her makes her act before she thinks but she has no regrets for diving in and kissing him. 

_I'm here_ , she says into his lip and traces circles onto the warm surface his cheek.

_She is,_ he whispers and pulls her into him, cradling the back of her head, bringing him into his chest again.

And it's warm, and comfy, his arms and his embrace. Safe. And she could stay there forever, just like this.

This too, she smiles against him, has become home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One question. How do you think Sasuke would propose to Sakura?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Happy New Year! Wish you all a great 2020!
> 
> Here is a new chapter: small but wholesome. And on that note, we move onto a new phase.
> 
> Continuition from the previous part, but a cute uhhh surprised at the end? Not really but like it was bound to happen sooooo lol
> 
> Do leave a kudos and comment if you can? Means so much. Makes my day and motivates me to keep working on this. Have a nice day~

She's a woman smitten, but she's also a doctor so she gets him to strip off his wet clothes while she prepares a warm bath for him.

He manages to cajole her into joining him as well, stubbornly tugging her clothes off and pulling her into the tub, and she snorts when he tries to get her to straddle his lap too. He says, so seriously, without a single mischievous twitch on his face, that it'll help him get better, the body warmth. But he's all flushed from the cold with wet hair and it's adorable so she gives in and throws her arms over his shoulder.

She asks him if he knows, looking askance, that Naruto is getting married. His chest vibrates against hers as he hums and strokes the small of her back. She asks gingerly, if he's going. He ponders on it for a moment before he shrugs.

He doesn't know, it depends. And then he glances at her, is she going? She blinks and then she nods and then he nods and says okay.

He's silent after that. Though he keeps staring at his lap.

It's later, when they're in bed that he lets it out.

He never thought anyone would agree to marry the dobe.

The admission is so sudden, any shred of sleep she has dissipates as she screeches laughter. She snorts and hits him lightly before she settles down and stares at the portrait across her line of vision on the table.

It's of her when she was much younger. Then, she never thought she would get married either. She genuinely believed it was impossible. She whispers this confession into the cavern of his neck.

He's silent as he strokes her hair for a while before he peers down at her and asks why.

She shrugs and avoids his gaze. Her cheek burn against his skin.

She just never thought anyone would want to marry someone like her, no matter how much she would have liked it for herself. She talked too much and she was aiming to be too successful and her forehead is too big and she scares off people sometimes and ugh- _nevermind_.

He says nothing. And then his fingers slide into her hair and he cups the back of her head and coaxes her to look up at him. Her chin is perched onto his sternum as he tilts his head to regard her.

_He wants to marry her._

She doesn't know what to say. Her mouth opens and closes before she lets out a nervous laugh and cautiously asks. 

_Is he proposing or something?_

_The ring is at home._ He informs her levelly, fingers massaging her damp scalp, and the wobbly smile on her lip falls.

A thousand and one things go through her mind at an impossible speed and what comes out of her mouth is:

_He's gotta be kidding._

He shakes his head. _No_. And his face is as serious as ever, void of any trace of humour.

Lips slightly ajar, she just... stares. And it's making him feel strange. Weird on the inside. Full in the chest, and ... breathless. She does this to him all the time.

He shifts, clutches the back of her head and tucks her neatly beneath his chin. He tells her to sleep, to forget he said anything, that he'll do it proper next time, he mumbles hastily into her crown. 

All the while the rapid thud of his heart beating his ribs pounds frantically against her cheek. It's on the same crazy irregular tune as hers.

She stares at portrait again, but she sees a young woman who deserves to walk down the aisle if she so desires, not an insecure girl who doesn't know just what she's worth.

 _Yes._ She says. He peers down at her, question in his expression. His breathing halts completely momentarily. He isn't sure he heard her right.

Yes, she says again, closing her eyes and this time when she hears wedding chimes and sees happy little dark haired kids, she doesn't try to fight it.

Yes, if he asks her today, or tomorrow, or in 10 years. She'll say yes.

His lips stretch against her hair and he nods, smoothing a palm over her head.

He's warm and he's here, and he's hers. And he wants to marry her. He wants to spend the the rest of his life with her. He'd gladly be hers.

Waking up together, sitting together, cooking together, eating together, doing the dishes together, munching on left over together at ass o'clock, sleeping together- cuddling- _**cuddling!**_

And her lips stretch into a silly, giddy smile as she slips into her dreams effortlessly, because she hasn't a single qualms or worry in the world anymore.

Putting a name on what they are is a small concern of a distant past.

The moment of clarity finds her softly, falling over her like a delicate lace white veil, gentle where it caresses her skin as it slides off- to reveal _him_ standing there in a dashing suit.

She smiles up, and he mimics the move with a handsome soft smile of his own.

 _Yes_ , if he asks her today, or tomorrow, or in 10 years. She'll say yes.

Because, in her head, in her heart, they're already married anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I was going through but things got angsty uhhh you'll see next chapter. I can never write light all the way through. Anyways;
> 
> Sushdudu what did you think of the proposal? I actually snorted because i personally found it cute and funny but very Sasuke like.
> 
> PS: the reason why this is so short is because i cut out a rather huge piece off this. This is meant to be a Sakura centric thing, unofficially, but then I started delving into Sasuke's mind and it was quite a nice monologue if I must say so myself, but the whole mood just wasn't consistent so I erased it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello.
> 
> Heavy content ahead. Pretty angsty. The biggest heavy hurdle in our lovers journey. Sakura is going though it.
> 
> As always, there's fluff and a hint of steam BUT as usual I veered left. I'm a sucker for angst I swear I couldn't keep my hands off the genre if my life depended on it shsjsjs...
> 
> Anyways, I think this is going to be an intense read. A little dark if you read between the lines. Nothing too disturbing if at all however.
> 
> Buckle up and enjoy the ride.
> 
> Comment and kudos if you're curious about how all this drama plays out! And read the ending notes please.

When Sakura is alone, her thoughts wander and when her thoughts wander she thinks of strange, whimsical, sometimes crazy and more times than not silly out of context things.

There's no reason or rhyme to it. It's just the way her mind works.

And her mind thinks of babies. 

She had just helped deliver at least three this week alone. It's been hectic. Ino herself has been on maternity leave.

But she doesn't just think of babies.

She thinks of chubby little babies with full pink cheeks and wide sparkly emerald eyes, healthy glowing skin and dark, dark hair. It takes her a while to realise she's thinking of babies of her _own_.

Getting married had been a secret wish- and now she wears a pretty engagement band and a few months after putting a ring on it there had even been papers to back up the legitimacy of their union.

The actual ceremony had been a small gathering of close friends and family and it consisted of performance of ritual rites and lots of food and cheering.

It had been a jolly affair, and she cries that special night because her parents cry when she embraces them, but they laugh and drink and they couldn't have been any happier.

Their first night as an official married couple had been long, and pleasantly strenous throughout. They'd made love at any given time freely and had spent their honeymoon days basking in the sun at a private beach and stargazing under cherry blossoms, just talking.

They'd talked about any and everything beneath the wide sky, and babies had been a part of the discussion.

Her mother wants grandbabies. Her father wants grandbabies. His mother wants grandbabies. Even his father wanted grandbabies. Their friends have babies, and they're expecting them to have babies next. 

_But ... were they ready?_

The question had hung heavy in the air for some time before he'd grasped her hand and led her down the flower path. His ring glimmered in the moonlight prettily. It stole her breath, effectively warming her heart and distracting her from her concerns as he touched and kissed her.

His voice had been even when he held her face, firm and promising even and it had captured her attention and held it. _They'll know when they know. They'll go on their own pace. Things will play out_. She had smiled a soft smile at his words and leaned her head on his chest, clasping their attached hands over her head as he entered her. It had left her feeling pleasantly content.

And that had been the last of that. That was about two months ago. 

They've been together for almost over a year and half. Have been living together for a year. And have been married for six months. At least officially, that is.

The questions have dwindled down and all that's left are the questions in her own head.

She's healthy and she eats well and he's no different. If anything, he's the fittest finest man alive.

So why _isn't_ she pregnant yet?

They use protection, pills she consumes majorly, but even those aren't 100% fool proof. And it's not like she wishes for the conception of her child to be something she refers to as a mistake or fluke some years down the line. But she's a doctor and these are the same facts she preaches to the youngins that come into her office; confused, crying and carrying at age sixteen.

 _Still_. Something is _off._

They've had sex countless times and she hasn't even had a pregnancy scare, not even _once_.

Her period is only slightly irrregular like it's been for years but it always arrives even if it lasts merely two days. The dizzy spells she experiences is from fatigue and exhaustion rather than any pregancy ail. She does binge eat at times so it's a given that she'll wake up hunched over the toilet. Everyone's tummy churns every once in a while too. 

She is _not_ pregnant. She _knows_ this. She _believes_ this.

And somehow, she finds relief in telling herself this for weeks.

Because she is still finding her place in the world. Her place next to him. And he would be gone for an entirety of weeks at times on some confidential Black Ops mission and she isn't sure if she could cope all on her own in such a dire condition let alone if, and _God forbid_ , he didn't make it back one day, even with help and support from friends and family.

His prolonged absence does things to her. It's never been like this before, but it's getting alarmingly overwhelming. She thinks her constantly straying and running thoughts are a factor, a coping mechanism in the lonely nights.

Still, it's getting out if hand. Several colleagues have expressed concern on her behalf. She isn't looking too good. Her thoughts are affecting her physically too.

She's lethargic and sombre- just barely living by on her own through work and the confines of their quiet home, working a boring small routine that consist of barely anything but late night paperwork, junk food in the dark and pathetic, hopeless attempts at sleep in a bed too large, too cold. It seems she forgotten how to be _alive_ when he's not near.

He would be devastated and troubled if Naruto yammered one too much about her state when he got the chance to call and check in on her. And she didn't want to have him worrying and distracted while he's out there. It could put his life on the line. That is the last thing she could ever want.

She needs to get a hold of herself. 

So she tells herself: _You're not pregnant._ She just keeps thinking about it so her mind is fooling her into thinking that she just might as well be. It must be some sort of twisted phsycology that drains and alludes her into thinking otherwise. She tells herself this and taps her feet, staring contemplatively at the stack of silly rectangular boxes on the kitchen counter. 

For someone who is so convinced she isn't pregnant, her hands shake a little too much when she unwraps the first box and stares at the white stick.

She takes it. The test. She mumbles nonsense prayers and she paces the living room, bitting her nails. And when three minutes are up, she peeks into the bathroom and gingerly takes the test. Holding her breathe and shutting her eyes tight.

Only to find it negative. She stares it and blinks. For some reason she can't believe what it tells her. She actually laughs breathlessly. It escalates to a full on cackle . But then she stops laughing as she regards it again and again. Because she can't trust it. Her mind won't allow her to. Her conciousness rejects the notion.

So she takes another. And when it comes out positive, she takes another. And another. And another. Because now they're all coming out positive and she is torn between freaking out in a shriek and punching a hole into the wall.

The more she stared at the slim stick, the clearer it became.

The more she went over it in her head, the more it made sense.

She stuffs the tests into a plastic bag and sets it aside in a place he'll never think to rummage through if it ever becomes a trait of his in with a severe sense of foreboding because she needs to _breathe_ and _think_.

Yeah. About _babies_. And what they mean. And what it takes to bring one into the world. And how fragile they are. And how they're not just cute little things with barely any hair and fat tiny wrinkly faces. They're actual tiny people a woman carries for nine months and then brings into the world through blood, sweat and tears to care and raise and love for the rest of their lives.

She is a doctor. And she is a woman. 

And there's a 6 out of 7 chance that she is indeed pregnant meaning she _most definitely_ is but-

Her own voice flashes her mind.

_Are they ready for that?_

She's not a sexually active sixteen year old high school girl with no baby daddy or anything close to that.

She is a married woman with a husband.

She is a doctor. And she is a woman.

So she knows. For certain.

She is pregnant.

And she knows exactly who the father is.

But she still descends into acute panic and paranoia.

 _It'll play out,_ he had said. But _what_ did that _mean_?

Is that a _yes_ or _no_? Did he _want_ this? 

And if he didn't, if what he really meant had been give it time, because that's what he needs, because he isn't ready for that, and this turns out just being an unexpected mistake in their journey- _what would happen?_

_Mistake. Mistake, mistake, mistake._

The word plays in her mind again and again in a distorted, mocking echo. In her unhinged state, her delirium coaxes her into reassessing their moon night pillow talk, and she's convinced to doubt the meaning behind the sentiment to his words the more she thought it over.

It's no surprise when it occurs to her then, just how clinical his response now sounded in her ears.

And she'd smiled and accepted it and she hadn't ever brought it up again.

Bricks weigh down on her. She clutches her head, shivering in the cold dark with her back glued to the head board as she tries to catch her breath and fight against the dread blooming with poisonous torns in her chest.

 _A mistake._ And there's no-one else to blame.

 _A mistake._ _And it's all her fault._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how it you think I handled the matter of the subject well. Is it accountable? Do you think Sakura has the right to be concerned and that her worries are valid, even without the paranoia? Do you think that Sasuke would particularly be lax and/or jolly about the news? Especially considering the factor of the idea of family to him personally and how he grew up, the fact that it's a concept he's still familiarizing himself with? Is this going to break or make them? 
> 
> That's alot to think about but I'm very curious, and I'd love to hear yout thoughts on how things have turned out and how you think things will play out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello. It's been a while but I'm back, yeap yeap.
> 
> I thought I should upload this now rather than later, even if i still want to edit this a little more, because I might really not be able to soon- I'm off to some sort of boarding school so Yeap.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is quite heavy. Sakura is going through so much. Oh! And Sasuke is back.
> 
> Buckle up for some angsty stuff ahead hehe. Share your thoughts on how you think this is going to go!
> 
> Enjoy. Comment. Kudos. And have a nice day!

For a whole week she wakes at the dead of the night shrieking and she grabs onto the first thing in sight for purchase.

And that night it's Sasuke.

It's some ungodly hour way after dark and pale moonlight pours in, softening his features. But the concern in the lines of his face remains unconcealed and evident.

He's there, in the flesh, and he's not some cold apparition from her dreams. He's there and he's okay, all striking dark features over smooth porcelain, and he's warm and he's holding her face- peering deeply into her eyes with a frown marring the space between his brows.

But then before he came she had been dreaming. And in her dreams she had lost the baby and she had lost him too because she was foolish and it was all her fault.

_(She knows she could have not made it through on her own, yet, secretly- selfishly, she had been wishing for it all along, for a tiny precious bundle of formed by what they share, despite her fervent anxiousness._

_Who else could have been blamed?)_

Suddenly, she can't breathe and she can't look him in the eyes and _something_ thick and unpleasant is crawling its way up her throat- so she shoves him off her and stumbles to a sprint towards the bathroom, fumbling to lock the door and clumsily dropping heavily to her knees before she heaves and retches into the bowl.

She'd heard his footsteps seeking her right as she had fled, and he hasn't said a word for a long moment but she knows he's there still. The doorknob clinks under pressure every now and then. He's waiting for her.

Sighing she lifts herself off the cold floor and drags herself to the mirror.

_(Why is she even still so shocked that she's pregnant again?)_

She knows that talk about the glow and whatnot were true to an extent, but not for a considerate portion of the masses. Not for her. Still, the less luckier ones rejoiced and they gladly carried on without a hitch.

But she couldn't possibly feel pleasantly blissful and nervously jittery. And what she couldn't body couldn't possibly show on her complexion.

Whatever she felt, whatever it was stirring her insides- it was nothing fluttery. Not in the good sense.

She felt like she was falling from the sky, upside down- gut _hurling_ , head _spinning_ , heart _malfunctioning_.

Her body is not her own any more, she knows this. But it is so hard to come term to that fact- yet it could never feel any less surreal at times like this. When she looks in the mirror and seed proof.

She looks like shit.

Honestly, detrimental anguish aside, it's a little funny. How things have turnt for the worse since the inkling had manifested. Since she found out.

But then the reality of the predicament kicks in. Hard and straight to her convulsing gut.

If this is the toll it takes on _her_ , what will it do to _him_?

She's shivering, profusely sweating cold through the jumper she hasn't changed out of for the longest because it smells like him most. But she also feels as though she's suffocating, like the air is too thick and too heavy and too hot to breathe in and hold in her suddenly weak lungs.

_(Her skin itches too, and there's an urge to rip the precious worn piece of clothing that had become her saving grace over the last few days and set it on fire. It scares her half to death knowing she would willingly subject herself to such unbearable heart aching torture and watch and cry herself dry while it burned down to ashes._

_Has she lost her mind now too, so soon?)_

She bristles, nails digging into the cool marble beneath her clammy, trembling palms. Her eyes flicker wildly as little black dots fill her already blurring vision.

What will it do to **_them_**? 

She catches her self before she falls, breathing heavily as her eyes shoot open.

Shaking her head, she tries her best to veer off that train of thought and squares her shoulders as much as her swaying body will allow her.

She allows herself a soft shudder of breath, eyes closing as she reasons with her self and finds some seed of relief, small as it is.

He's here. And she doesn't need to court the darkest thoughts in her mind anymore.

_(They'll talk. And it's either he wants it or he doesn't. For whatever reason. Because there has to be a reason. And she will understand. Always. But even then it's either she accepts his choice or she rejects it. As is within her rights. And from then on, in his words, things will play out. This must have been what he meant.)_

She finds him standing there once the door is fully ajar, and she's awkward as she clings onto the doorknob- before she pauses abruptly.

The sudden realisation falls over her like a bucket full of freezing water and ice that coldly washes away any hopeful inkling that had miraculously budded in a blink of an eye.

She barely understands her body and she understands her self even less.

But most of all, he's looking at her like he doesn't understand anything at all either. Brows drawn in, eyes searching.

Lost. Confused.... unsure. _Hesitant_.

She takes a slow, wary step back, wide eyes flickering. His expression darkens, and his fingers flex and twitch at his sides.

( _For her, it only intensifies all those things she had seen. In her mania, the miserable part of her takes it and runs with it to the hills.)_

She doesn't like the way he looks at her, like he's trying to figure her out and decipher the meaning and cause and reason behind her antics. Like she's some stranger. Like she's someone he doesn't know so well anymore. She hugs her arms and averts her blurring gaze, trying to push down the stupid self consciousness eating at her brutally from the inside.

It's like she's in that place again, even though he's here.

_(Where it's cold. Dark. Lonely. So lonely. Where she can do nothing, but just watch as everything falls doen on her. She's changed. She really has. She doesn't want him to change too. Not into anything close to the miserable something that she has become too.)_

She walks past him with leaden legs before he can innitiate anything that could make or break her and waits for him quietly in the living room. There's a look in his face she can't decipher when he finds her sitting on the solo couch, legs drawn tightly, but he says nothing and sits across her heavily.

_(And she really needs it, to be able to at least feign a semblance of control, when everything else is so helplessly out of her grip, so she takes it upon herself to be the one to drive this ... confrontation?)_

The silence is loud as it stretches and she doesn't know where to start with this but-

_'Is he happy?'_

He blinks and then he frowns.

_'What?'_

_'Is he happy?'_ She asks again and this time she lifts her eyes to study his expression. The frown fades, but his face becomes pensively impassive. She fists the hem of her oversized jumper in her lap- _his_ jumper.

A beat. His eyes are unblinking.

 _'Yes_.'

But she can't find relief. He'd paused for one second. One second too long. Her panicked mind wouldn't allow her to recognise that he is perplexed, that she's put him on the spot without him knowing why while he tried very hard to contain the need to dismiss her sudden need to interrogate him to just crouch before her, hold her face and ask her what's wrong, what can he do to fix, and yet still he had answered earnestly.

She feels as though she's walking on glass.

She treads carefully.

_'If something unplanned happened, if something they never expected to happen happened, what would he do?'_

_(It doesn't strike her, that had she been in her right mind, she would've asked what they would do, because they're a unit, equals, one half of the other. But things have gone out of hand and she no longer knows what it feels like to operate well without messing up. She hasn't felt like this for years. The need to receive approval, to get affirmation so she knows she's done something right because oh god, it's pathetic but she needs that now.)_

This time his frown is more severe, and her nails dig into her palm as paranoia heightens with each passing ear piercing silence because she interprets his expression as accusatory and repulsed.

_'Why isn't he saying anything!'_

He snaps.

_'He doesn't fucking know.'_

She trembles back into her seat at the force and guttural tenor in his crisp voice. And her eyes begin to water but she refuses to cry. It's time for her to be a big girl and make a big decision.

She uncurls her fingers and breathes, shutting her eyes.

He sighs, jaw relaxing and he attempts to leave his seat to reach out to her and offer a silent apology so that they can move on and clear her ails, but he freezes when she discloses, her voice barely above a weathered whisper.

But it still cuts through the air like a heated sword on butter with damning clarity.

_'She's pregnant.'_

The words hang in the air, so very heavy, and it weighs down in the room everytime it echoes again and again and again, each time more distorted than the next in their heads as the words curl around their ears like slithering snakes.

One would expect it go either one way. Delighted cheers, a proud smile and tight hugs. Or cursing, yelling and throwing plates.

But he says nothing. He sits and he stares at her across the room and there's not a sign of joy or anger

There's some sort of conflict raging in the dark depth of his slightly wider eyes, uncertainty in the slackened lines of the shock on his face, but even that is both hard to interpret and telling. 

It should be easy for him to choose. If he had a stand on this matter. But it isn't. And she doesn't blame him. She can't. They didn't plan for this.

She understands.

She draws in her mortification with a laboured shudder of a breath.

And she takes his silence as an answer. 

It's a fluke. A mistake. And mistakes are meant to be erased.

_Right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was reading through the comments and some readers pointed out something very important, something that I have mentioned once( I think) before. POV is very very important, an essential key in reaching into a character and their thought process and their desires and fears and whatnot.
> 
> That being said, it would do well to remember that this entire piece is pretty much all Sakura (peep the sakura centric tag) meaning, what we see and are privy too is what goes on in Sakura's mind from Sakura's perspective. And Sakura hasn't entirely been ... sane. With good reason, of course.
> 
> Okay, anyways. I just wanted to clear that up. Read through with this in mind again if you can.
> 
> Thank you for stopping by ♡♡

**Author's Note:**

> This could be a one shot, a two shot or it could become something more depending on the response that will then motivate me to continue writting this.
> 
> I hope you liked it. Kudos and comment please 💜


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